Communication

Director Jin’s shoulders were trembling slightly.

Looking at his nephew’s face, stiff with tension, he instinctively wanted to refuse.

But more and more people began chiming in.

A man shouted, “Where’s Captain Jin?”

A chaotic uproar that could no longer be suppressed followed. Zhu Yan could hear terrified screams and furious sobs.

He took a deep breath and began silently repeating the word “Illusion” in his mind, trying to send out a message through a wordless summons.

“Are you there, Illusion?”

“There’s something fun going on… We’ll have to cooperate!”

Red specks of light soon began flickering before his eyes.

At that moment, someone—no one knew who—started it. The crowd suddenly began pushing toward the front.

Voices thick with resentment surged over them like a tidal wave, making Zhu Yan’s ears ache.

“Go in! The rules say you can go in, so go!”

“Isn’t the Human Alliance supposed to protect the people? Then go in!”

“Exactly! The rules don’t apply to you, so you should be the one going in!”

“What’s the meaning of this? Our children are still onstage! Don’t stop us! Please, turn around and look at the children!”

The red specks in Zhu Yan’s vision took shape.

“How are we xxxxx supposed to cooperate? Your plan for eating people is—”

As long as they could communicate, that was enough.

Before replying, Zhu Yan glanced toward the stage.

Several children standing at the edge were still wearing their standard smiles, but their bodies had already blurred into a mass of pixels. Their situation was clearly deteriorating.

“I can’t eat this many people,” Zhu Yan said at once. “I only need to eat a few. I need you to spare the rest and let them leave the auditorium.”

“Because I don’t like eating people on someone else’s turf.”

This time, a jumble of distorted symbols appeared in the red text.

“Fine, fr#end. You may have misunderstood. They’re trapped by your rules.”

“Which lives do you want? I can guarantee that I won’t eat them. Taking them out is your xx&＃ privilege.”

“A few. Fewer than ten, friend.”

Zhu Yan considered it for a moment, then quickly gave the red text several names. He even deliberately framed Director Jin’s face with his gaze.

“These people belong to me,” he said silently. “And one more person I’ll take to the changing room shortly.”

The red text quickly gave him a positive answer.

“A tiny request, no problem. Here you go, female friend.”

The surroundings were a mess.

The parents charged forward recklessly, but the uniformed players formed an orderly human wall and blocked everyone beneath the stage.

The grim situation forced Director Jin to swallow the words that had nearly escaped him.

Zhu Zeyu was still whispering in his ear.

The young man’s hand rested firmly on his shoulder. A trace of warmth pressed against his suit, becoming the only support in the darkness.

“Director, given the situation, Captain Jin has no way to refuse.”

“Listen to me. Let them escort you to the door first.”

Zhu Zeyu spoke in a way that left Director Jin no room to argue.

“I promise you’ll survive. All right?”

“Director, stay in contact through the Player Forum. When I tell you to leave, go immediately.”

Zhu Zeyu waited.

Director Jin responded quickly—he finally gave a slight nod, then turned toward Jin Rongxu.

“Go in,” he said. “I’ll stay in contact with Zhu Zeyu. We’ll wait for you up there.”

Jin Rongxu stammered.

Zhu Yan could tell that he wanted to say something, but with Captain Zheng and several other players protecting him, Director Jin vanished into the darkness beneath the stage like a fish disappearing into deep water.

“Uncle, I…”

“Captain Jin.” Zhu Zeyu cut him off. “Follow me. I promised Director Jin that I would get you out.”

The three [Walking Corpses] worked together with Zhu Zeyu, surrounding Jin Rongxu completely.

Then Zhu Zeyu faced the frenzied crowd and raised one hand high.

“Quiet—quiet! Captain Jin and our vanguard player are about to enter the backstage area!”

His words carried tremendous force, like a powerful sedative.

The outermost layer of players gradually fell silent. Zhu Yan seized Jin Rongxu by the arm and dragged him to the edge of the stage.

Zhu Zeyu swiftly crossed the patch of children who were beginning to blur, snatched the microphone from the Heavily Blurred Female Teacher, and hurried back.

The effect was immediate.

In an instant, everyone’s attention focused on the brightly lit stage, where they watched the audacious young player and the rigidly standing Jin Rongxu beside him.

Zhu Yan could see black, human-shaped silhouettes, with pairs of eyes faintly reflecting light where their heads should have been.

“Please, all players, remain calm.”

Zhu Zeyu’s voice came through the microphone, somewhat distorted.

He raised a hand and pointed at the red-lettered rules on the stage.

“Please follow the instructions of the Human Alliance players. Remain orderly and wait for the doors to open.”

Only he knew that the doors might… perhaps would not open anytime soon.

Because the red-lettered rule itself was a fallacy.

Jin Rongxu had to attack the terrifying creature in the auditorium’s backstage changing room.

But Illusion might not be in the backstage changing room.

Illusion had to be somewhere in the auditorium, because the red text had stated that the erosion had begun there.

The most Zhu Yan could do was turn the entire auditorium into a room that no one could leave without committing suicide.

He had even deceived Director Jin—

Director Jin could escape, but not because Jin Rongxu succeeded. The only reason was that Zhu Yan, using his identity as the Boss, had pleaded with Illusion for a few lives.

Even Director Jin’s escape depended on Zhu Yan exploiting the brief interval between the replacement rules and sending him the corresponding notification through the Player Forum.

All Zhu Yan needed was for these people to stay obediently and quietly beneath the stage.

They could not charge around recklessly.

They could not interfere with him killing Jin Rongxu.

Besides…

Zhu Yan watched as the crowd below gradually quieted. Then he turned and followed Jin Rongxu toward the empty, pitch-black backstage area.

This shelter could accommodate a hundred thousand people.

There were at most a thousand people in the auditorium.

As a Boss, preserving the lives of the remaining ninety thousand was already more than merciful enough.

…

The darkness made Jin Rongxu uneasy.

He grabbed the army medic’s uniform and pulled the [Walking Corpse] in front of him as a shield. Then he swiftly activated his lock-HP hack and linked himself to the army medic, Pot Lid, and Ma Dong.

He glanced back at Zhu Zeyu, but the other man’s level made him abandon the idea of linking the lock-HP hack to him.

Damn it, a level-three or level-four newbie.

Putting someone like that on the lock-HP chain would only drag him down!

Jin Rongxu therefore grabbed Zhu Yan by the shoulder and shoved him violently to the front.

“You take point! Damn it.”

Zhu Yan heard Jin Rongxu spit out the words.

“What the hell is going on with this rule? What the hell is going on?”

“It’s fine, Captain Jin,” Zhu Yan said at once, smiling silently.

“From what we can tell, the door will open as soon as you launch an attack.”

Ahead lay an unlit changing room.

A wisp of 【Mist】 was waiting inside.